With the Angels
by The Rogue Raven
Summary: Harry arrives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and refuses to speak to anyone until someone bursts into his room with a message from Sirius. Warning: Slash


_**Summary: **Harry arrives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and refuses to speak to anyone until someone bursts into his room with a message from Sirius. Warning: Slash mentioned RLSB: if you don't like it, don't read it…_

With the Angels

_By The Rogue Raven_

It had been one hour, four minutes and approximately fifty-seven seconds since Harry had arrived in his old room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and began staring at Phineas Nigellus's empty canvas. The sixteen-year-old wizard knew this thanks to the new wristwatch on his wrist that he had received from Pro- Remus for his birthday just two days before. The thought that he could tell time accurately had, oddly, not made the brooding wizard any happier. Getting rid of his old watch was just another thing that had changed in the past few months.

Strangely enough, no one had bothered to come check if he was doing all right. _'Just as well…'_ he thought bitterly, _'it's not like they'd understand anyway…' _At that moment, as if summoned by his thoughts, a soft knock sounded at the door. Hermione. It sounded like Ron was with her, by the telltale shuffling behind the door.

"Harry… It's us… Please answer the door," Hermione pleaded softly.

Harry's eyes darted to the door and then quickly returned to the empty canvas of the most hated Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts. This had worked for him before and it would work again; silence always chased them away when he didn't want to have company.

"Harry, mate, its me, Ron," Ron's voice stated obviously, "you've got to come out of there eventually…"

Still no answer. Sighing defeatedly, Ron and Hermione slowly shuffled back down the aging staircase. Within the room, Harry stared more determinedly at the empty frame. This was how he spent most of his days now, even on Privet Drive, brooding about his parents, Cedric, Voldemort, the Prophesy, and most of all, his late godfather. Harry would have been content to sit and brood until his stomach or, as was often the case, bladder betrayed him and forced him from the confines of his room, but someone apparently had other plans. There was another knock at his door, short and unfamiliar. The 16-year-old wizard narrowed his eyes and began to glare furiously at the painting in attempt to block out the knocking that had started up again and continued in a constant and even pattern.

The knocking suddenly stopped, shocking Harry out of his staring contest with the portrait, and the door swung open to reveal an impatient looking Lupin. "Thank you for inviting me in Harry; you're too kind…"

"How did you- it was locked…" Harry rambled awkwardly, thrown off by the ex-professor's sarcasm."

"You see Harry, every lock comes with this fabulous thing called a key, it's really quite extraordinary," Remus quipped, pulling a ring of keys from the keyhole. "If you're really so interested in keys, I'd be happy to enlighten you after you've had a proper shower, shave and some dinner."

Not finding the werewolf's irony very humorous, Harry turned back to glaring at the faceless wall, "Go away… I'll be down later…"

"For shame Harry, that won't work on me… Too many people have said that in this man's lifetime, myself included, for me to not know what it means. _'Woe is me! Leave so I may wallow in my self-pity, alone and miserable!'_ Not falling for it."

"What would you know?" the boy muttered under his breath while continuing to stare angrily at the wall.

"You see," Remus continued, "I used it at great length at Hogwarts, usually right after a full moon. When I would get like that, Sirius would crawl through my bed curtains and come sit with me until I snapped out of it."

Harry's fingers dragged along the richly colored comforter and curled into angry fists.

"Right before his fell, he was prone to fits of silence and brooding, and the only way to get him to speak was to have full conversations with him even though he didn't reply… I suppose he's better off wherever he is now, he's free from this Hell Hole…"

The young wizard on the bed began to tremble with rage before exploding for the first time since leaving Hogwarts. "He isn't better off! He should have stayed here, where he was safe! Then he wouldn't have died! He'd still be here, with me!"

Remus took a deep breath and prepared for the worst, "That's fairly selfish Harry; you know how much he hated this place. Why would you possibly want to keep him here?"

"Because he was the only father I've ever known!" Harry exploded again

"Yes," Remus replied, yelling back, "and I loved him more than anyone else in the world!"

The messy-haired youth opened his mouth to shout a retort, but it was then that what had just been said sunk into the teenager's already swirling head. "You… Sirius… love… what?"

"Don't tell me you didn't figure it out on your own… We sent you a joint Christmas gift, for Merlin's sake."

"Well," Harry mumbled, "that explains a lot… How long?"

"Our sixth year at Hogwarts."

"So all this time… You and Sirius were…"

"Yes, sorry to have to spring this on you so suddenly, but we did think you'd figured it out all on your own. Well, maybe on your own with the help of Hermione."

Harry sat in stunned silence for a few moments before whispering softly, "How can you keep living, knowing that he's not coming back?"

"Well," Remus began, shutting the door and making his way to Ron's bed, "there were a few times that I almost gave up going on, when I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed and stay there until I would shrivel and die from heartache. But it was in those time I'd remember something Sirius said to me a long time ago, and it would keep me going." The aging werewolf slowly lowered his worn body to rest on the end of Ron's bed.

"What's that?" Harry asked, suddenly noticing how much older Lupin had seemingly become since he had last seen him.

"The night after the Bones family was found dead under the Dark Mark, during the first war, Sirius said something to me. He told me, that if he died in the war, I was to imagine Heaven with all its little cherub angels with their little white wings and golden harps. Then imagine Sirius in heaven with his own set of white wings and golden harp." Remus paused for a moment, gathering the picture of his mate standing on a large fluffy cloud playing a harp. Harry apparently had called up the same image because a soft snort sounded from a few feet away. "That in itself was enough to make me smile, but then he added to it by asking me what I thought would happen when he inevitably got bored of sitting on a cloud and playing a harp. He went quiet for a while and then suddenly asked me, 'Moony, do you suppose angels bounce?'"

That had done it. Harry's face split into his first real smile in months.

Remus nodded and rose from the bed, "When you're ready to come down, there are a few people in the kitchen waiting to talk to you." The aging werewolf walked silently to the door; as he was placing his hand on the knob a voice interrupted him.

"Remus," the voice said to Remus's back, "thanks…"

Smiling, Remus shut the door to the old room behind him and headed back to the kitchen. When he heard Harry burst out laughing behind the door he knew, the Boy-Who-Lived-Despite-His-Protests was once again the Boy-Who-Lived. Everything would be just fine.

A/n: Well? What did you think? Worthless? Worth something? Let me know...

Raven


End file.
